


i’m stuck in a glass box (please help me out)

by kittykais



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Fear, Fluff, Insecurity, Lots of kissing, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Self Loathing, a lot of hurt in the beginning, adorableness, as he should be, happy birthday jeongin i present to you: Depression., hes overwhelmed with life, hurt comfort, im sorry jeongin, in accurate look at what goes on in my head, its mostly platonic but jeongin is so so so loves, its not pretty, its vv soft, jeongins mind is rough because my mind is rough, kiss, loved, mentions of fire and a knife, the second part is soft, this is just me self projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykais/pseuds/kittykais
Summary: Jeongin’s trapped inside a glass box, only a small stream of air coming through to keep him alive. He’s chained to the walls, heavy metal on his neck and his wrists. He’s curled up, watching everyone go about their lives in front of him. He wants to scream, to shout for help but he can’t. No one hears him.OR: jeongin's overthinking; jisung helps him afterwardsSTARRING: im sorry this is just me self projectingFEATURING: HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEONGIN LOML <33drop a comment!
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	i’m stuck in a glass box (please help me out)

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't the fic i'm writing for jeongin's bday but i needed to cope and this was the result. keep in mind that jeongin is overthinking a lot in this, he's insecure, and he thinks a lot of negative thoughts about himself. there isn't anything explicit, so it should be fine but just a little warning 
> 
> have fun <3

Trapped. He feels trapped. Everything’s been piling up against him this week, overthinking and insecurities knocking on the front door of his brain until it collapses under their force. Today was the breaking point. 

There are millions of thoughts running around his head, nasty ones that make him feel worthless, that make him feel useless and pathetic and undeserving of love. He feels suffocated. His head is above the water, limbs held down by long, dark, heavy chains. And yet his face is above the surface- just barely, He bobs in the water, wave after wave crashing against his body, engulfing him but spitting him back out like he’s nothing but a chew toy, living for their pleasure. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to talk to the hyungs, because they’re all busy and going through their own problems...he doesn’t want to be a burden. Jeongin never wants to bother them. They work too hard for their own good, so the least he can do is not add on to all of that stress with his silly thoughts. 

Besides, he’ll get over it one day, right?   
Wrong. So very wrong. Jeongin’s trapped inside a glass box, only a small stream of air coming through to keep him alive. He’s chained to the walls, heavy metal on his neck and his wrists. He’s curled up, watching everyone go about their lives in front of him. He wants to scream, to shout for help but he can’t. No one hears him. 

Or maybe they do, maybe they hear him loud and clear and they just don’t want to answer him. Because he’s a burden. Because he’ll never be enough for them. Because they never loved him anyway, just coddled him in front of the cameras so they wouldn’t get attacked for being terrible hyungs. 

Jeongin doesn’t know what hurts worse- the fact that they can’t hear, or the fact that they  _ choose _ not to. If they choose not to hear him, he wants to be told to his face, goddamnit. He wants to be told that he’s worthless, that he’s boring, that he’ll never be enough for them. He wants to feel the pain and the burn of the flames licking against his skin. He wants them to be outright with them so that he’s not constantly confused by their actions. 

He just wants to be sure of himself for once in his life. Can he not even have that? Why must he be sheltered from the harshness of the world. treated like a child and left out of matters that should involve him but don’t? 

It’s stupid. It’s so so so stupid and Jeongin hates it, he hates it so much that he doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know what he can do. His glass box shrinks around him, caging his body in. The suffocating feelings intensify and Jeongin curls into a ball, a sob wrenching out of him. He shushes himself quietly, not wanting anyone to hear. It would be bad if someone heard. Then they would  _ care _ . 

Jeongin doesn’t want them to care about them. He doesn’t deserve to have cared for- why would he, when he’s useless and stupid and so insecure and doesn’t do anything properly? He doesn’t deserve to be cared for. He doesn’t deserve to be worried about. He doesn’t deserve anything his hyungs give him, not the tenderness, not the care, not the love, not the soft kisses they press to his hair when they think he’s sleeping. 

Another sob gets wrenched out of him and the chains around his neck intensify. Water begins to trickle into the glass box from the ceiling, slowly but surely. The sound grates on his nerves. It’s equal to nails on a chalkboard, it makes his mind twist and turns in the most hurtful of ways. 

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. 

Over. And over. And over again. It’s a never-ending cycle. And with every droplet that drips onto the floor, another negative thought gets added to his brain. Thoughts of worthlessness. Pain. Desire. Confusion. Indecent thoughts that make him want to tear his hair out. An arrow travels through the glass box and lands on his head, pain shooting through him. His vision begins to blue and Jeongin curls up further, lungs crushing under him. 

His head. His head hurts so much. It hurts enough so that he can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t do anything without pain stabbing through him, hot and sharp like a knife that’s just been made. He wishes the heat of the knife would flow through him and engulf him whole. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He doesn’t want to feel the pain. 

It hurts so much that Jeongin doesn’t know what to do. He thought his glass box was impenetrable, but little airplanes keep zooming through the walls, hitting his back and falling at his feet. Jeongin reaches towards one with a trembling hand, teardrops hitting the paper and wetting it. The writing still shines through, clear as day. 

_ Pathetic _ . 

A sob. Jeongin drops the airplane, sobs being wrenched out of him. He watches as the airplane transforms into a boat, words shining on the sail. It floats on the water that’s steadily rising, each drip and drop inflicting pain on Jeongin’s mind. 

It’s so much. There are so many negative sensations in this tiny, tiny box, a place that was once his safe place quickly turning into a drowning hell. It was supposed to be his safe place. But now it’s the one place that he’s terrified of. He hates this little glass box but he finds himself coming back to it every day. 

Day after day, Jeongin opens the door to his mind and lets himself through the glass, settling down and letting the chains bind him to the walls once again. Every day, he lets himself be at the mercy of the paper airplanes and the droplets of water that fill his box, torturously slow. Most of the time it happens at night when no one’s paying attention to him and Jeongin can fake sleep. 

Sometimes it happens during the day as well, days when everyone is too busy to pay attention to him or days when everyone is too caught up in each  _ other _ , too content with themselves to pay attention to him. Those are the worst kinds of days when he knows that he’s faded into the background and can do nothing but watch his members through stained glass. 

There must be something wrong with him because these glass walls are nothing near rose-colored glasses. 

Jeongin’s tired. He’s so tired. He’s lying in bed, palms fisted tightly and nails digging into the supple flesh of his skin. His head is pounding and he’s shaking under the covers, burying his face into the sheets to muffle his sobs. He really,  _ really _ hopes it works. He doesn’t want the members to see him all vulnerable like this. 

As time ticks and the night moves, Jeongin’s glass box expands enough for him to breathe a little more easily, and he falls into a fitful sleep. He doesn’t notice the boy in the bed above climbing down the ladder and settling into bed with him, stroking his hair and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. He doesn’t notice the boy pull out his phone and shoot a text to his hyungs, demanding a day off for everyone. He doesn’t notice the boy wrap his arms around him and pull him into an embrace that brings warmth into his glass box, almost enough to break the walls fully. 

Jeongin sleeps better than he ever has before. He doesn’t dream today, the nightmares holding off long enough for him to sleep properly and wake up well rested, with the sun shining on his face and hair being stroked by long fingers. 

As Jeongin wakes up slowly, he notices some things. First, the sun is out. Which means it’s at least 9 in the morning. Which means he’s late….except no one’s doing anything about it. Which is very odd. Second, he’s not alone. There are a pair of arms wrapped around him and skinny legs attached to his waist and a hip bone poking into his stomach. Third, his head doesn’t hurt. He feels...well rested. Warm. Fuzzy, in the good way. 

Jeongin groans, the sound muffled into whichever hyung’s in his bed’s sirt. He moves around and manages to get far away enough to look at whoever’s holding him. Oh. It’s Jisung. Jisung. That makes sense, actually. That makes a lot of sense.

“Hyung?” Jeongin murmurs, squinting against the light shining into his eyes. Jisung looks so content and at peace like his, wrapped under the covers with his hands around Jeongin’s waist. Jisung frowns and burrows closer to him, shoving his face into Jisung’s neck and going right back to sleep. Jeongin giggles and pushes him off lightly, smile getting wider as Jisung pouts up at him, one eye open halfheartedly. 

“Hyung, what are you doing in my bed?” Jeongin tries to sound mad, he really does, but he can’t possibly be mad when Jisung’s given him the best sleep he’s gotten in a month at least, and when he’s pouting up at him so cutely? Jeongin loves him. He’s eternally thankful for him. All of a sudden, his glass box expands further, letting him breathe freely. The shackles around his neck and limbs fall. 

Jisung, when he realizes that Jeongin will  _ not _ be letting him go back to sleep, sits up slowly and rubs his eyes, yawning. “What's the time?” He mumbles. 

“It’s around nine, which is weird.” Jeongin says. “Don’t we have schedules today?” Jisung shrugs, sitting up properly and looking at him. 

“I cancelled our schedules for today.” Jisung winces. “Or, well, I asked Chan hyung to cancel them for us so we could stay inside and relax for once. He gets up off the bed and walks to the door, oversized hoodie covering him fully and making him look tiny. Why does he have such a big effect on Jeongin? 

Jisung twirls around to face Jeongin, who’s still sitting on the bed, wondering what the fuck is happening. The dorm sounds silent. For once. Which is odd. Very weird. Jisung is smiling widely at him, looking at him with a conspiratorial look in his eyes that makes Jeongin worry for his life. 

“They’ve all cleared out.” Jisung cackles, pulling Jeongin from his bed. Jeongin nearly trips over his own feet, yelling as he does so, but Jisung plows on towards the bathroom, where he then shoves Jeongin to the side and starts his morning routine. Jeongin can do nothing but follow him. They brush their teeth side by side, looking terribly domestic. Jisung grins at him through the mirror and Jeongin pushes him away. 

Slowly, the thoughts and the tiredness of the past few weeks melt away, leaving nothing but Jisung, Jisung, and  _ Jisung _ . It’s nice. Jeongin didn’t realize how much he needed a break. A rush of gratitude for Jisung flows through Jeongin. 

After they brush their teeth and do whatever else they need to do, Jisung forces Jeongin to sit down and relax while he tries to make something edible without burning down the kitchen. Thirty minutes later, his efforts seem to work, and a plate of warm banana pancakes are set down in front of Jeongin, along with their newest jar of Nutella. Jeongin looks at Jisung suspiciously, but eats anyways. It tastes good. It feels like Jeongin hasn’t had actual food in a while now, especially not something as filling as pancakes..and Nutella. 

Jisung doesn’t say a word, only sits next to him and curls into a ball against his side. They turn the tv on and put whatever new drama’s playing these days. Jisung is a soft, warm weight against his side. A constant. It makes Jeongin want to tell him everything, and wants to break the barrier between him and the boy next to him, the one who did all of this for him just because he caught him in a moment of weakness. 

Jisung doesn’t cross any boundaries, just listens and hugs Jeongin to his chest, holding his hand and stroking his hair lovingly, all while listening carefully to what Jeongin’s saying. 

After Jeongin’s done and the waves have subsided (the drip drop is nonexistent. For once, he feels relieved. Warm. Empty, but in a good way.) He’s afraid that Jisung will judge him or make fun of him..or be disappointed in him. 

But he doesn’t do that. Instead, Jisung, being the lovely person he is, lifts Jeongin’s head so that he’s looking into his eyes and presses a soft kiss against his forehead. “It must have been hard, hmm? Keeping all of that inside of you?” He presses another kiss, this time to Jeongin’s hair, wiping away the tears that have started to flow. 

Bit by bit, Jeongin’s walls start to crack. It starts off as a splinter. The next kiss forms a crack. And the look in Jisung’s eyes as he stares at Jeongin, with so much love and care forms chasms in Jeongin’s glass box, walls crashing down around him as he lets go and cries. Jisung holds him tightly in his grasp and kisses him all over his face. 

When Jeongin calms down, hiccuping slightly from the tears, Jisung smiles softly at him and strokes his cheeks. “Innie, whenever you feel like this, whenever it starts to build up and the paper airplanes begin to hit,” he rubs Jeongin’s back soothingly, making Jeongin curl up into a ball against Jisung’s chest, “come to me, and I’ll make you as many paper airplanes as I can to counter the bad ones, alright?” Jisung makes one to demonstrate, ripping a piece of paper off from a spare notebook they have lying around and folding it into an airplane. 

He takes a marker and writes “JEONGIN IS LOVED” on the front of it, scribbling something else on the back. Then he throws it at Jeongin lightly. The airplane bounces off Jeongin’s forehead and lands in his lap. He opens it up and starts to tear up when he sees the words that are inside. Jisung just giggles and pulls him into his arms again. 

“Jeongin…” he murmurs. Jeongin blinks up at him. “I know it’s hard to open up, okay? And I know it’s even harder to be vulnerable enough to go and tell someone that you aren’t feeling well but I want you to try. Try for me and the other hyungs, because whenever you feel like we’re ignoring you or not loving you enough,  _ tell us _ . Tell us so we can fix it and prove your mind wrong, because right now it’s telling you all sorts of things that aren’t right, okay? Please come to someone, and even if you don’t want to talk about it, we’ll hold you, just like this, and tell you all the things we love about you.” 

He gets up and boops Jeongin’s nose. “From your nose.” Pecks his lips. “To your lips. To your voice, to your hands, every single part of you. We love all of you, Innie, and sometimes it can be easy for you to lose sight of it, and that’s okay. Come to us to get back on track.” He winks conspiratorially, and it’s so stupidly  _ Jisung _ that it makes Jeongin laugh. Jisung looks extraordinarily proud of himself for that. 

At the end of the day, when the rest of the hyungs come home, Jeongin gets smothered in so much love that his glass box leaves him be for some time. The waves of self hatred and insecurity will never disappear, but they all can do the very best they can to help them subside. Because Jeongin’s walls  _ aren’t _ impenetrable, and never will be. 

Sometimes, you just need extra warmth to break down walls made of glass and a light in the dark to help you escape them. 

**Author's Note:**

> someone be the jisung to my jeongin please
> 
> twt/cc: @mininnies


End file.
